Posts tagged ‘art journal’

Social Isolation in Ultra Sea Major

And so!  Ten weeks in!  And May Long Weekend to boot!  We are not going anywhere!  Back in the glory days of old, like say last year this time, we’d be back on the range!  Back in Sweet Paradise!

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Photo of said sweet paradise: but this was photographed on one of those glorious early August afternoons: in the time of the crickets.  Ah but the range is a glorious place anytime of the year!

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Summer out there is a true paradise:  and a summer night out there…  Ultra.  (No noise pollution and No light pollution!)(And No neighbours!)(And not a through road leading up to our place!!!)(Wowza!)

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Page from an Art Journal:  unknown book, unknown time.  (Judging from the darkness going on, I must have been listening to Soundgarden:  Fell On Black Days)(Or:  all I had left was the black paint!  (HA!))

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Asking the Power Bird, page from the art journal.  Many thanks to the great Norval Morrisseau for the original idea!

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In the River:  Ophelia.  Art Journal, and yes…  that is quite a story!

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The folks in this town, who drive cars, need a couple of these!  I had me some front row seats to a 4 car pile up on the 417 at Carling on Wednesday afternoon.  I saw the brake lights on so I started slowing down.  The “knuckleheads” in the left lane, driving like they were in the Indy 500, of course weren’t paying attention and BOOM!  I watched it happen and thought:  It’s a lovely afternoon to be stuck in a traffic jam!  While this was going on the others in the left lane, coming up, had their tires squealing and smoking coming off them, I thought I was going to see an 8 car pile up!

So I was stuck there.  Waiting for folks to clear the wreckage and have mercy…  THIS song came over the radio:

Good gosh.  It was back during that first tour with Debajeh, near the end of it, in either late May or early June, I was caught in a traffic jam going from Hamilton back to Toronto and I missed our 8 p.m. downtown.  I told her come heck or high water, I’d be there at the diner dressed in my saucy “black”.  When I did arrive, at 9:30, it was a table for one…

Now this song wasn’t even in the works back in those days, but Ade said it all right there! What a flash!  What a moment, parked in a traffic jam on the 417 on a sunny Wednesday afternoon at 4 p.m. in this modern day.

I don’t know if I ever told you this, but last November, I was in another diner not far from here, in Ottawa, seated alone, looking out the window, waiting for my order, and THIS came over the house speakers:

Now this song IS old enough and have mercy…  That ride in the Buick, the airport, the never never landing with each passing second…  The all knowing…  The poison I had flowing through my entire everything up around 95%…  The southeast of Asia and its mighty secrets…  tans that are beyond lovely…  our long raven hair hanging down our backs.  Voices in whispers.  Old magic, young people.

Oh my goodness…  (Where is that drink I ordered?!!!)

And so!  Whew.  Lost my where with all with that one…

Ah yes.  And so!  Week 10 going on week 11, in the city, everything closed, but the birds flying anyway.  Sun shining too.  And the art journals, the music (that version of No Smoking, recorded last Saturday was nothing but CRAP!  We’ll have to try it again tomorrow with much steadier hands…  if you get my driftsville…  ), and the paintings in wait:  long weekend in isolation in the city…  We have to do the best we can.

IMG_0724My version of Harry Callahan’s Weed Against the Sky, Detroit”  Page from an art journal.  (Do you know that piece?)

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Bison from Altamira, Art Journal, way back in easier days:  June 14, 2019: when freedom was!

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My version of Keith Haring’s 3 Dancing Men and the UFO, art journal.  The other night in lockdown I thought I’d watch “Fire In the Sky” and dream about the old days but instead got suckered into “Alligator”, from 1980.  What a dumb move that was!

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“Childhood”, art journal.  For more on this horror story visit the twinravens2000 youtube channel…

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“Sweet Seventeen”, art journal.  Well as my old buddy Michael would say:  We’ll get there some day, pop.

One day this lock down is going to end.  One day they’re going to reopen the world and that means the clubs will re open too.  That means we can get dolled up and go out on Friday and Saturday night!

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Me and Marilyn: at the club, where we SHOULD be on a Saturday night…  but not this Saturday night, which begins in a few short hours…

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Me and an Ultra Super Exotic Dancer, at the club on a Saturday night, many moons ago!  What fun!

Let’s start imagining this lock down stuff is going to go away and we can return to having some fun out and about, dusting off our dancing shoes, walking out the door at nine and coming back around noon on Sunday!

Art Journals and Repurposed Books

and so we’ve made it through week 7 in lock down mode!  what a sad state of affairs out there.  and so much insanity in every direction…  especially on the roads where the serious illness really shows itself!  ick.

anyway:  as an artist working through this pandemic nonsense and the stupid goings on: there is always room to create!  remember how, back in the autumn of 018, i was going on about an art making exercise using repurposed books?  flash ahead to present day:  we’re working on book 5 and it’s coming along nicely!  an online friend asked if i would post some pictures of recent pages and so here they are:

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Fancy Shawl Dancer with the BIG EYES!  i saw how the kids are drawing these characters with the gigantic eyes and thought i would give that a go, twinravens style, in the art journal repurposed hard cover book!

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created fresh this past week!  it’s a kooky look.  not sure if it’s worth anything once the art market opens up again.

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fun stuff: and we need to explore!  we need to expand those horizons as best we can.

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i LOVE how you can see some of the text under the thinly spread paints.  now remember: all we’re using are ball point pens, sharpie markers, super cheap dollar store acrylic paint, a hardcover book from the goodwill, and our own wild and priceless imaginations!

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that’s the stash so far:  4 complete books and the 5th and 6th still in the hopper.  the art making tools are there as well: don’t throw those fading sharpie markers in the trash!  you can use those for “shading”, solid gold art making tools until they’re completely dead.

now where are these art journals going to end up?  for now, over on the book shelves at the cottage.  some nice light reading and looking while chilling, relaxing, shredding and spooking, on a sunny day, far away from the war.  but down the road thirty or forty years?  maybe in one of the kids libraries, daughters, nieces, nephews, who knows.

my online friend also suggested a little video and so here it is, made fresh this morning:

recorded for you, fresh this morning.  you might want the headphones on though as the sound is, well.  i used the apple iPhone to shoot this vid.  all in one take, my ramble is one of those Saturday morning in the city type rambles…  if you get my drift.

we’ll shoot that next video which shows how we create some of those slick looking and colourful backgrounds, but that is for later today.  right now we’re off to wait in line at the LCBO!

The Dream at the End of the World

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Opening pages of Found Poetry Book 4: The Dream at the End of the World.  I loved that title and to boot: printed way back in 1991, the paper is quality stuff that can handle the sharpie markers, highlighters and thinly spread dollar store acrylic paint.  I keep saying “thinly spread” as no matter how good the paper quality is in these old books, if you layer on gobs of acrylic, bad things are going to happen to your book project.  I’ve seen it happen with a few participants and yes it can get messy fast.  And that’s when the tears start…

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Remember: this is meant to be a long term art making project.  As you can see I started this one way back on September 4, 019.  Here we are at December 15th and I have 3 pages to go!  The opening “found poem”, is 2 pages of love…

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Found poems…  Love this stuff!  As I said to participants:  what literary surprises are waiting for us with every page?

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The End of Art School, found poem No. 3, is an 8 page beauty that goes like this:

in a dream, rising up through the tranquil sleep of a warm May evening, left in its wake a delicious sense of peace, of afternoon sunlight, the dream terrain, i felt the thrill of recognition, was offering, up to him again.  

his life was out of control, sidetracked by untidy passions, impulsive missteps, messy obsessions…

daring was in his art, and his ambition seemed limitless, he was an accomplished poet as well as a musician, still, he was beginning to feel like a hired hand, and he was weary of focusing his energy on works that were not his own.

disturbing, nihilistic, quietly bizarre…

its perpetual distraction.  as summer approached, the power of his stories, the dream had shown him the way.

flirtatious, seductive, she staged mad crushes, they had become favourites among the creative elite, they were famous among the famous.

his only refuge was his imagination, he invented his own planet, “I was always trying to get away.”

found his freedom, possessed of a diffident charm, and sensible in summer, thrillingly remote, was vital and clamorous, the ancient native, life burst through the seams, wonderfully excessive, costume balls, expeditions and martinis, cleanliness and efficiency.

steady, hot, with a moon that is like a sun when it is full, a madhouse: the piano in their isolated house was wildly out of tune…

trance dancing-all of it was part of the pageantry, Sahara, the sky had a life of its own, baptism of solitude, silent country, sensation of existing in the midst of something that is absolute: the absolute has no price.

mystical undercurrents ran deep, a man transforming, the supple nature of reality, on the other side of the looking glass, alienness intoxicating, insupportable jealousy, I shall be away. 

pursued the exotic, self indulgent, he kept up his creative momentum, he transported himself, an untamed twenty year old, the two began to spin fantasies.

a protagonist in his novel, restless souls who wanted to explore life outside, purpose and spirit, it was a mystery, She laughed: “You KNOW I don’t want you to go.”

a close friend of both, i dimly remember my own face and not yours, how psychosomatic can you get?

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Of course there is room for drawing: “Fancy Shawl Dancer, who IS Mother Earth”,  sharpie marker, thinly spread dollar store acrylic.

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And room too, for experimenting with the draw and the subject of the draw:  black ball point pen with sharpie marker on acrylic paint.  Maybe there is an opportunity to create a new series of pictures from the sketches in these pages.

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Some days are tougher than others…  Sharpie marker on acrylic paint.

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“True Love: age 22, (I knew her name)”, Found poem, a 12 page extravaganza!

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Once into it, these sketches can be pretty telling…  (life on the road…  )

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And of course there is room for fun stuff!  The end page of a wildly sexual poem, from the Road Taken!

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Ah yes: room to explore, room to create, and maybe a new series of paintings in the development stages…

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Heavy duty and ultra supra TELLING!  Wow.  This drawing is from the last of the pages in the book, 384 pages of found poems, drawings, journals, love stories, memory brambles lane, black circles under blood shot eyes, spinning out in a parking lot, from soup to nuts, insanity before xmas in the city.

Yes the found poetry book project is a work in progress and an exciting exercise for the creative soul.  On Monday I’ll be back in the goodwill on the snoop, looking for another interesting title with high quality paper.

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Power Bird, acrylic on canvas, 18×24 inches, by anishnabe artist Mark Seabrook.  Made fresh this past week and using a new brand of acrylic paint!  The last of my Stevenson Professional Acrylic, and I mean the last, we’re down to the bottom of the barrels, I’m pretty sure we only have a half dozen paintings remaining in those paint barrels.  Very sad for me as Stevenson was my brand since all the way back in art school.

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Power Birds, acrylic on canvas, 24×36 inches, by anishnabe artist Mark Seabrook.  Originally it was a black and white but with this new brand of paint in the house, it’s time to explore and see what she can do.

Just ten days before Xmas and…  yikes: another year will be in the books.

 

Spoken Poetry

Performed by writer and arranger:  Mark Seabrook.

Many thanks for that email and so here is a selection, as requested:  Poetry.  By yours truly.  What we have here though is “Found Poems”:  we take a hard cover novel from the goodwill, we pick a title that we are attracted to, never minding what the book is about, and we use the “black out” technique, covering the words that mean nothing to us, leaving behind what does mean something.

The book I selected from the shelves at the goodwill:  Every Living Thing.  That title meant something to me.  Copyright way back in 1992, by James Harriot.  We picked it not only for the title but for the quality of the paper within the book:  we’re turning those pages into artwork as well, and art work needs good paper.  So be selective when you’re creating one of these fun Found Poetry books.  Find a title that means something to you and find one made with quality paper.  342 pages takes time: I started book 1 on October 16, 2018 and finished it on November 25, 2018.  We’re working on book 4.  But here are some selections from book one:  Every Living Thing.  Spoken Poetry performed by anishnabe artist and writer:  Mark Seabrook.

Oops!  My bad!  This one is from:  Infinite Riches, published in 1998 by Phoenix House, author Ben Okii.  Saved from the rubbish heap by yours truly and turned into a one of a kind book of poems and art!  (These can become heavy duty journals along the way!  This is book 2, created December 20, 2018 to May 9, 2019.  So be careful!)

Classic love stories, from the road taken…

Classic love stories…

Classic love adventures…

More classic love adventures…

Some of these, you may have to sign into your youtube account.

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Artwork from the pages of:  Every Living Thing.  Sharpie marker on dollar store acrylic paint spread thinly.  Sometimes there is no poetry to be found!  In which case turn the page or pages into visual arts!

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Yes…  it can become very telling.  Artwork and poetry, in book 2:  Infinite Riches.

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Ball point pen on acrylic paint spread thinly.  Woodland School style artwork by Anishnabe artist Mark Seabrook.

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Kooky.  Sharpie marker on acrylic paint spread thinly.  (Not sure where I was on November 9, 2018, but judging by this: going down memory lane…  )

And so there it is!  Spoken Poetry, written and performed by yours truly.  Art work, drawings and so on, created by yours truly.  It is an art and writing adventure!  Let me know what you think!  Drop me a line anytime.

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One for the road:  don’t forget to add a little colour to those art pages!  Dollar store acrylic paint with sharpie markers.

 

Life and Times of a Famous Native Canadian Artist, Vol. 3

ha ha!  joking of course.  we’re not booked to be at the MET any time soon nor do we have important pieces over at the NGC.  we are the classic:  legends in our own minds!  and so yes, with a chuckle:

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the “Black Framed Originals” we’ve been working on this autumn, preparing for a pop up flash art show in November.  that is an 18×24 inch canvas board, Mother Earth sketch,  and it is one of 20 we have ready go!  the painting just above it i have been looking at for about a year.

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the painting just above, Detail: Who Is She?, 30×48″, on canvas.  the original painting of the girl on the lake, winter, 1990, yeah it was a peaceful scene but i just had to HACK it!  5 years ago it came back from where it was on display and by that time i had opened up the “art bridge” and re read a few articles on Jackson Pollock!  so this canvas was just begging to be re worked.

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yes yes it is not the classically painted face but that wasn’t what we were going for then nor is it what we’re going for today!  fact of the matter is: hey i like this one.  like i said i’ve been looking at it for a year, hanging on my wall over here in Ottawa, and i’m starting to think maybe i’ll keep that one.

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Striking a Pose, in Whitedog, Ontario, sometime in the spring of 1991.  that was on the Toronto at Dreamer’s Rock National Tour, Debajehmujig Theatre Group, and we’re about half way into that tour.  i had friends who are now long dead and gone, dust and bones, from up there, who hadn’t been home in years, and when i told them i might be passing through their old starting point they told me to get some pictures.  this of course was not the photo they were expecting!  (story of my life, ha!)

i recently saw this old photo and others when muddling and “muggling” the idea about the next writing project:  Fighting In Hell, an anishnabe’s art journey.  the title for that writing project is still in the works and the stories within: an artist story, what to leave in, what to leave out?

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that is the great Gabor Mate and his lad, in Toronto on Friday night, October 18th.  they were in town to make a presentation on parents and their adult children and the business of healing.  very interesting!  but my question was and is this:  what if the adult child has had several sets of parents from bio parents to foster parents to adoptive parents of a different culture, all within the first 7 or 8 years of life?

175 participants signed up for that 3 day presentation and you can bet any time Gabe opened the floor for questions about 80 hands shot up, and usually the same 80 hands!  so i didn’t get to ask my question.  you see Gabe is a genius.  you have questions along these lines, he has answers.  google his name if you’re not in the know.

175 x 350 = 61 250.  nice work!

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half of the “artist uniform”, at the conference, front row.  you can bet the other half of the artist uniform had things to read/say and that place being 98% women participants, there certainly were a few readers!  Nature.  Cheaper than Therapy.

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back in Markham before the bug out: wiggling the toes!  the boss man is up on the 9th chilling and i’m in the lobby switching out of the artist wear black boots for some basics: the new car has a standard transmission and folks i like to have my barefeet on those three peddles.  this being mid October, black socks will have to do!

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blazing down the 401, east bound, Sunday night alone, in the brand new limo:  put the radio on and up came 10cc, I’m Not in Love.  it being the oldies FM station they weren’t cheap and played the 6 minute version.  sweet.  kooky too, riding through the mild autumn night, all those heavy duty thoughts from the conference stewing, all those heavy duty memories from what seems like another life time ago, stewing, the open road, the wiggly toes, and the here and now…

kind of peculiar how things work out…

as a refresh: here are the opening few lines of the original life and times of, Vol. 1, posted way back in the autumn of 2017.  ah but what a beautiful September it was in 2017:  6 weeks of Indian Summer on the open range, a paint brush in my hand during the day, a glass or a key pad at night.  30 C during the afternoon, 20 C at night, for 6 wonderful weeks, down in the cosy back country of Tehkummah: no light or noise pollution.  no neighbours.  nothing but a suitcase full of 20 dollar bills and the artist with an agenda.

Life And Times Of A Famous Native Canadian Artist…

ha! i say that jokingly! because i’m out here on the range, going on 21 days now without a note of art conversation, idea expressed verbally, or hint of a hand to hold while under the mighty Milky Way. she’s new moon boys. and so, alone under the almighty, with eagles roosting down by the river (what music they make first thing in the morning!) and the great wide open: there is room to stretch the “art making arms”. we have some good looking pieces but we’re also getting down to the bottom of the paint barrels.

so last night around 7 i stowed the gear, set a table for one, lit a candle, cracked open a Paul Jaboulet Aine Cornas Domaine de Saint Pierre (2012), sparked up the youtube for a little dinner music and instead got attracted to a documentary about alien abductions. i watched the nutty scenes, heard the kook house stories, heard the so called experts blabbering on about all this stars and moon and space stuff and…

From the twinravens blog:  September 2017.

now i have no idea what i did to the comments section here,  see it is turned off.  but you can always email at twinravens at hotmail or twinravens at gmail.

miigwetch.

Paintings by Mark Seabrook

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Power Bird, acrylic on canvas board, 18×24 inches, by anishnabe artist Mark Seabrook.  Available for purchase as of Oct. 3/019.

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Power Bird No. 5, acrylic on canvas board, 9×12 inches, by anishnabe artist Mark Seabrook.  Available.

I have to admit I’m having fun with these pieces in frames!  Normally we sell them as unframed canvas boards but I decided to switch things up last summer, and so here we are in October with a sizeable collection, getting ready for that show in November!

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Power Bird No. 6, acrylic on canvas board, 8×10 inches, by anishnabe artist Mark Seabrook.  Available.

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Tehkummah Scenes, acrylic on canvas, 8×10 inches, from the original run in 2013, artist collection.

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Twinravens, Winter Scenes, acrylic on canvas board, 5×7 inches, by anishnabe artist Mark Seabrook.IMG_8998

Tehkummah Scenes, acrylic on canvas board, 5×7 inches, by anishnabe artist Mark Seabrook.  Available.

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Big Bucks!  Acrylic on canvas board, 5×7 inches, by anishnabe artist Mark Seabrook.  Available.

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Power Bird, acrylic on canvas, 8×10 inches, by anishnabe artist Mark Seabrook.  Available.

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Visiting from Over Seas, acrylic on canvas board, 14×18 inches, by anishnabe artist Mark Seabrook.  Available.

We ship anywhere.

And so yes:  I’m having some fun here framing up these new pieces and going through the collections, framing up a few of the war horses, pieces I just couldn’t part with, playing with a new look.  And it IS fun.  We’ll be ready for that show in November!

 

HACKED paintings No. 1 and 2

after seeing that young lad’s HACKED artwork on CBC a couple of weeks ago i was inspired!  of course it helps that i’m always rooting around at the Goodwill looking for any long lost and authentic Tom Thomson sketches on 8×10 inch panels or anything along those lines.  i did come across an original and authentic Daphne Odjig at a garage sale!  you can bet i snapped that up for the cool 20 bucks they wanted for it.  i put that in a bag and ran like a bank robber!  same with the Martin Panamick i found in a junk shop on Queen Street West, Toronto, all those years ago.

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Hacked Painting Number 1:  the before photo.  found it in the goodwill, 16×20 inches, on canvas, dated 1975.  Googled the artist name and up came the obituaries.

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HACKED painting No. 1: the after photo.  New title:  “I acknowledge that I live and work on the unceded territory of the Algonquin nation.”  (Remembering the Trail of Tears)(we might go back to work on this one and add a few more “things”…   )

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HACKED painting Number 2: before.  found this one on the street!  a vendor had something going on, over there on Bank Street one Sunday afternoon, not far from Beaded Dreams.  i said i love the picture but i hate the price!  he sold it for 3 bucks!

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HACKED painting No. 2:  after.  New title:  “The Starlight Tours, the early years.”  on canvas board, 8×10 inches.  if you don’t know what the “star light tours” are, just google them up.  they’re now famous Canadian stories.

and so!  we’re on the look out for more of these which means we’re going to have some fun, Indiana Jones style.  stay tuned as we’ll be posting more photos of the before and after, numbers 3 through 13.

and i want to say thanks to that writer/reader who emailed from the USA and asked about a detail in the INFINITY section of my debut novel: SUN INFINITY MOON.  you asked:  what is an LCBO box?  answer:  LCBO is Liquor Control Board of Ontario and an LCBO box is a heavy duty cardboard box in which they ship 12 bottles of wine, the 750 ml variety.  they’re pretty common to see at the LCBO store front, free to take for anyone moving out or in need of a little old school storage.  closer to home, on sweet and beautiful Manitoulin Island, LCBO can also stand for:  Little Current Band Office, hackney backwoods Indian humour for those in the know.

as my old comedy buddy, Mr. H.B. would say:  if you can’t laugh with them, laugh at them!

more to come!